Day by Day
by CherryMelody
Summary: Every time. It happens every time. I shake my head no, every time. I should have learned by now, after so many times, but the fear consumes me. Saying no is the least I can do for myself. Amuto. Rated T, rating may change.
1. Prologue

My name is Amu Hinamori. Twenty-two years old. Pink hair, honey-colored eyes. I'm a singer, a struggling one at that, working at bars and random parties just to get by. Didn't go to college, barely made it through high school.

I live with my boyfriend, Tadase Hotori. Twenty-three years old. Platinum blonde hair, maroon-colored eyes. He's the heir to some big company that I really don't give a damn about. Why he likes me, I have no idea. Hey, he gives me a place to stay, so I should be grateful enough for that.

He takes me to fancy parties that I don't fit in at, trying to make me fit in my putting me in expensive pink dresses that clash with my hair. He pulls me around, from one company exec to another. One hand holds a never-ending glass of wine, sometimes whiskey, and the other is intertwined with mine, only letting go to shake one of those rich bitches hands.

That glass, that never-ending glass, is really never-ending. He can go through three glasses within ten minutes. Sip after endless sip. Sometimes he offers one to me, but I never take it. I swear, no one notices how much he's had.

Except me.

I notice, when we're stumbling out the doorway.

I notice, when I have to struggle to get the car keys out of his pocket. As he fights me, yelling that I'm trying to rape him.

I notice, when I struggle to get him up the stairs and into our apartment. When I struggle to get him to even make it through the door, let alone the couch.

And I especially notice when he wakes up.

It doesn't take that long, maybe ten minutes, for him to wake up. And when he does, my reocurring nightmare begins.

"Amu, come here. Come here, you bitch!"

His eyes, those big, sweet eyes, aren't sweet anymore.

"Can you hear me, dumbass?"

I go. I stand in front him. My knees are shaking, but I doubt he notices.

A wide smile breaks his cold demeanor. He relaxes a bit, clasps his hands onto mine.

"Amu, that dress looks beautiful on you."

He stands up and kisses me. His kisses, when he's like this, aren't warm or sweet. They hold nothing but lust, and maybe even anger. And when he pulls away, eyeing my whole body:

"That dress, Amu, would look _so_ much better, on the floor, _right there_."

Every time. It happens every time. I shake my head no, every time. I should have learned by now, after so many times, but the fear consumes me. Saying no is the least I can do for myself.

"You dirty bitch. You listen to me!"

But I don't listen.

I never do.

You idiot, Amu. You're such a damn idiot.

And what started with kisses, every damn time, ends with me in bed next to him.

My bare back against the cold, white sheets, staring at the ceiling.

His rough hand, cold and unwelcoming, flat against my stomach.

My lips swollen, my limbs bruised, and tears rolling down my cheeks.

My ow personal hell that I can't get out of.

* * *

_**A/N: So, here I am once again starting a new story. Don't ask me why I'm doing this. I must be crazy, haha. :) The idea popped into my head, and I had to do it. I didn't write much since it's the prologue. There's really more of a story behind it, if you read the first chapter.  
That is, if I write another chapter...  
Please, do tell me if you want more. I don't want to be writing for nothing!  
~Cherry**_


	2. Chapter 1

"Amu, are you awake?"

His voice is so annoying.

I open my eyes, the sun coming through the window as unwelcoming as this new day. I turn my head slowly and look at Tadase's face, happy and calm like nothing happened. Does he not have a hangover? Does he see these bruises? Does he even remember? He never does. I guess that's what alchohol does for him. I wonder what it would do for me...**.**

Ha, I don't get drunk.

I smile a huge, fake smile. "Mhm." His hand is still on my stomach. I wish he would move that hand. I sit up in an attempt to shake him, but his hand slides down _further_. My eyes widen. "Please don't touch me there."

"Aw, Amu, you don't want a second round?"

Like hell I do.

"No, I'm good for today." I look around, still feeling the presence of his hand, now on my thigh, spotting the bathroom door. Thank God. "I'm going to go take a shower, okay?" His smile widens to a grin. "By myself."

He pouts, and for a moment, I wish he wasn't like that monster I saw last night. "Okay. I'll go make breakfast."

I get up quickly pulling the top sheet with me, practically running to the door. I throw the door closed before the tears start pouring down my cheeks.

Most people would say leave him, look what he's doing to you! But most people don't get it. Most people weren't abandoned by their parents when they were held back in their senior year. Most people haven't lived in shelter after shelter, just trying to make it through a day, let alone a year.

I was. I have.

At first, having Tadase in my life was great. He bought me nice things, took me to beautiful places, and so much more. When he found out I was living in a shelter, he insisted that I come stay with him. His parents were great (They still are. I'd marry his dad in a heartbeat, even if he is almost fifty...). Welcomed me into the family like that.

You can obviously see how that turned out.

But what am I supposed to do? Turn down a place to live? Go back out on the streets?

That's not an option.

I wipe away the tears and look in the mirror. I hate seeing this person. This woman, with bruises covering her arms, tears permanently staining her cheeks, the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown.

Try to smile, even one without teeth.

It doesn't appear.

I turn away. That's the best thing to do, to ignore her, pretend she doesn't exist.

Maybe she'll go away faster.

**(daYbYdaY)**

I come out of the bathroom, feeling exactly the same as I did before. Most people have deep thoughts in the shower. I don't. I go completely blank.

With my towel wrapped around my body, I check the closet, seeing what's appropriate to wear, considering all of the bruises. Since the bruises don't go past my elbow, I choose a three quarter-length white crewneck t-shirt, red skinny jeans, and white Converse. There aren't any bruises on my face, so I go light on the makeup. I pull my hair up in a messy ponytail, take a deep breath, and walk out of the bathroom.

Tadase is sitting at the kitchen table, stabbing a piece of sausage with his fork. He doesn't have a shirt on, only a pair of yellow boxers.

Okay, if you have something nice to see, go ahead, take your shirt off. If you're like Tadase, just don't.

"Amu, come here, eat with me." He's smiling that annoying, cheesy smile. I give him one right back and sit across from him, taking a bite of toast. Wow, I didn't realize how hungry I was until now.

"Shouldn't you be dressed already?" I check the clock. It's 7:30. "You need to leave in fifteen minutes." I look over at the coach, seeing his suit neatly pressed inside a dry cleaners bag.

"I can get ready that fast." I eye him suspiciously, but he doesn't see it. "Do you want to come to work with me today? Father will give you something to do."

Hell no.

Everytime I go there, his mother makes me try on millions of dresses, and she _watches me change_. What am I supposed to say if she sees the bruises? "Oh, your son practicallt rapes me every few days."

That would go over so well!

"Nah, I have a busy morning." I finish my toast and stand up quickly. "I'll be leaving first." I walk over to Tadase, give him a kiss on the cheek while grabbing my phone off of the counter, and run out the door. Phew, I'm out of there!

I check my phone and slump against the door.

No texts, no voicemails, nothing.

It's only 7:35.

I don't start work until 1:00.

This is going to be a long day.

* * *

_**A/N: Yes, another chapter. :)**_  
_**Please review!**_


	3. Chapter 2

Okay, it must be noon. Maybe even 11:00. I check my phone and gawk at it.

It's only 9:00?

I've walked up and down the block (slowly, very, very slowly) at least nine times. I even went back to the apartment and took a nap! It had to be longer than an hour and a half.

I look around. A restaurant, a convenience store, a book store… ah, the convenience store! That should keep me busy.

**(daYbYdaY)**

I open the door slowly and look up as a tiny bell jingles above my head.

God, I hate those things. You can obviously see someone walk through a door, so why do you need to hear that stupid bell? It's so freakin' annoying.

The clerk, a boy who can't be older than seventeen, looks up from what must be a _Playboy_ magazine and gives me a smile. I can tell he's checking me out when that smile turns into a broad grin. Are all guys pervs nowadays?

I ignore him and walk down the aisle, looking for something, _anything_ to by. Anything to keep my mind off of that ticking clock.

I end up picking out a small notebook and cheap purple gel pen. That should keep me busy for awhile. I debated buying a pack of cigarettes everytime I walked past the counter, but I've never been much of a smoker anyway, so there really wasn't a point, right? I walk up to the counter, pull out a crumpled up five dollar bill, and slam it on the counter. That boy is still staring at me. He looks like he's about to say something, but I talk first. "That should be enough, right? Five dollars?"

Ouch, I sounded harsh.

He swallows slowly, like he's afraid or something.

Great, I scared a teenage boy.

I leave before he can even answer.

**(daYbYdaY)**

Somehow I end up at the park, sitting on a bench, legs pulled up to my chest, head between my knees. The notebook and pen are on the bench next to me. I've done nothing with them so far. Probably won't.

At times like this, when I'm all alone, I wish I could talk to my mom. I haven't spoken to her since I was eighteen, and I doubt she wants to speak to me. I don't even know if my parents still live in the same house. All I know is that my mom is the editor of some semi-famous magazine that my dad takes pictures for. I don't want to, don't need to know anymore. She doesn't like the person I've become. She misses her little baby girl, the one who listened to her and wore frilly dresses and wasn't such an awful bitch.

She's never coming back.

I listen to the birds, the wind, the silence. Occasionally I hear footsteps. They get louder, and they're pace slows down. They're looking at me, maybe wondering if I'm okay, but they keep on going.

This time, they don't. The footsteps are lighter, hardly even making a sound. They slow down, like all of the others, and then they stop.

I don't look up, don't even move a muscle.

And then I hear a _crack_. I debate whether I should look up or not, but I do. I turn my head to the side, my cheek resting on my knees. I resist the urge to gasp.

The first thing I see is blue. I whole, messy head of blue. It's a boy, I can tell. He's staring at me with blue, almost purple eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I let go of my legs and set my feet on the ground, letting my hand fall into my lap, and stare right back.

We sit there, just staring at each other, for what seems like forever. His eyes never waver. Even when mine do they move right along, keep the contact. What is with this guy?

I almost say something when he stands up. He's facing away from me, but I can still tell there's a smile on his face. I look at where he was sitting, the purple ink from the pen covering the notebook. Out of some habit, I look right at his butt, a huge purple stain covering the back of his grey jeans.

Something bubbles inside me, something that I haven't done in a long time. It feels weird, almost foreign, and for a moment, I try to resist.

My resistance isn't strong enough.

It starts out as a giggle, barely escaping my lips. But soon, my whole body is shaking with laughter, a few squeaks coming out hear and there. I feel tears streaming down my cheeks. It feels weird to be smiling and crying at the same time, but I let it go.

My elbows are on my knees, my head bent low, the laughter still pulsing through me. I can feel his eyes on my back, but I try to ignore it. And suddenly it stops.

I sit up completely straight, the smile on my face nonexistent. A take a deep breath, wipe away the tears, and look up at him.

He's still staring at me, but this time, there's a smirk on his face. I can't read his expression, but his eyes seem happy, so I stare right back.

"You must have some serious hormonal problems." He knocks the notebook and mess of a pen off the bench and sits down next to me. His hands are clasped together, so he rests his cheek on his fists and stares at me some more.

I shimmy under his strong gaze, trying to comprehend what he said. "Huh?" I let my mouth hang open. He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair.

"You just had a major mood swing there." He laughs again. It's a deep, throaty laugh, exactly the kind that I don't like. "You were giggling and happy one moment, and BAM! You were stone-faced. It was kind of amusing." He's still smirking, and I can't help but smile a bit.

"It's a woman's job to be like this." I look at the notebook and pen on the ground, then back up at him. "You know, you have a huge purple stain on your ass."

He keeps that smirk on his face. Damn, how does he do that?

"Eh, I really don't care." He looks at his knees, brushes his pants off, and stands up. I reach out to grab him, but my hand is back on my lap in a second. Whoa, Amu, keep your hands to yourself. He looks back at me. "It's a woman's job, hm… Your not much of a woman though, are you? You're more like a little girl." My mouth hangs open. He grabs a case (maybe for a violin?) from the side of the bench and starts to walk away.

"Wait!" I yell, louder than I expected. He stops, but doesn't turn around. "What's your name?"

"Ikuto," he says, and starts to walk away again.

Ikuto, Ikuto. I say it over and over again, scared that I'll forget it.

"I-ku-to," I whisper, barely loud enough to hear.

I like it.

* * *

_**A/N: I just feel like writing so much! And this chapter was over 1,000 words long, so that's an accomplishment for me. ^^**_  
_**Sorry the plot is developing so slow. Something big will happen in the next chapter, okay?**_  
_**Please review! ~Cherry**_


	4. Chapter 3

Finally, it's 12:30. Only thirty minutes left to go!

I spent the rest of my morning following Ikuto. He walked through the rest of the park, purple stain and all, at least three times. I followed him out of the park and into the bookstore, where he looked at a few music books and drank a cup of coffee in between two shelves.

Don't ask me where he got the coffee.

The whole time I followed him, he had a hood and sunglasses on. Only twice did he look back at me, tipping his shades down to the tip of his nose and staring at me like before. He didn't say anything either time, and we kept on walking.

Eventually I lost him when he ran down an alley. I didn't feel like running.

And now here I am, standing in front of the café, ready for another long day at work.

I work at Secret, a small café across from the park. It's relatively new, only a year old, and I've been working hear since it opened. It looks like it would be a dump, but inside it's completely parallel.

The word I use to describe it is chic. There aren't any dining tables, just couches with coffee tables. The whole café is purple and cream, giving off a calm yet sophisticated vibe. The craziest part is the stage. It's small, nestled in the corner of the café, framed with sparkling silver curtains. It's my favorite part of the café. I go up there every night at 8:00 and sing my heart out. We serve alcohol after 6:00, but most people drink wine, so it doesn't get too rowdy.

I open the door, and there isn't a small jingle to greet me. Another thing I love about this place. There are only a few customers. They're regulars, so I give them a small wave and run to the front counter.

"Ayumi, can you give me a small coffee? Please?" She looks at me, her green eyes stern. She looks really pretty today, with her red (and when I say red, I mean blood red) hair pulled into low pigtails.

All of the workers here are original employees. There's me, Ayumi, Rika, who's also the manager, our chef, Hitomi, and the owner, Natsumi. It's an all female team, and we're proud that we've survived this long.

"Fine. But this is the last time." She turns around to get to the coffee, almost running into Natsumi in the process. Her long black hair is down and pin-straight, and her peach-colored eyes look tired.

"God, Ayumi, you almost ran into me!" Ayumi ignores her, pouring my cup of coffee and setting it on the counter.

"Ayumi, I love you!" I run around the counter and give her a hug. I pull away and stare at Natsumi. "Where's Rika?" Rika is Natsumi's sister. She's like a mini Natsumi. She points towards one of the couches.

Rika is on the couch. Her eyes are closed, her short black hair spread out over the purple pillow. Hitomi walks out of the kitchen, her waist-length blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail. She looks at me staring and smirks, a playful look in her violet eyes. "Rika had a bit too much to drink last night." I look at Natsumi. She just rolls her eyes.

"I can see that." I grab my coffee off of the counter and take a small sip. Ah, how I love coffee.

"Amu," Ayumi says, writing something down in a small notebook, "why don't you go get your apron on? I need some help here!"

"Just let me finish my coffee, will you?" I gulp down the whole thing, even as it's burning my throat, and run into the back room.

**(daYbYdaY)**

It's been a long day.

Rika woke up, threw all over the coffee table, and guess who had to clean it up? Me, of course.

Hitomi spilled a pot of broth, slipped, a hurt her ankle. We've resorted to selling bagels and toast.

It's finally 8:00. I push my way through a group of drunk college kids, throw my apron on the ground, and run up to the mic.

I've already picked my song, Brick By Boring Brick by Paramore. Hitomi starts the music, and the crowd goes wild.

_She lives in a fairy tale  
__Somewhere too far for us to find  
Forgotten the taste and smell  
Of the world that she's left behind  
It's all about the exposure, the lens, I told her  
The angles are all wrong now  
She's ripping wings off of butterflies_

_Keep your feet on the ground  
When your head's in the clouds_

I look out into the crowd and see that messy head of blue hair. He's smiling at me, and I smile right back.

_Well go get your shovel  
And we'll dig a deep hole  
To bury the castle, bury the castle_

Go get your shovel  
And we'll dig a deep hole  
To bury the castle, bury the castle

_Ba-da ba ba-da ba ba da_

I look up again, but this time I don't see Ikuto.

Tadase is standing right behind Ikuto, a blank look on his face. He's holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

Oh no, he's drunk.

I panic and drop the mic. His lips turn up in a wicked smile as he starts pushing his way through the crowd.

I jump off of the stage and out the back exit. My heart is pounding in my ears. I look through the window in the door. He's getting closer.

I bolt.

I run to the front of the café. It's already dark outside, but I can see a huge tour bus across the street by the park. I run across the street and yank the door open, closing it safely behind me.

What the hell am I doing?

I never run. That's not part of the plan.

This isn't supposed to happen.

I take a few deep breaths before venturing farther in. It's empty but the whole bus is a mess. There's a small table with a bench surrounding it. I sit down and relax.

Suddenly the door opens, and a girl with blonde hair and the same eyes as Ikuto walks in. A guy is behind her, his orange hair and green eyes not matching the expression on his face.

"Who are you?" she screams, her hands balled into fists. Someone pushes past her, that guy with the purple stain on his pants.

"Well," Ikuto says. "Look who we got here."

* * *

_**A/N: I'm in such a mood to write, haha. :)**_


End file.
